


Light and Flame

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Romance, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3862693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far will one go for love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

_Disclaimer: Obviously, anyone you recognize didn't come from my imagination, but from the amazing talent that belonged to Mr. Tolkien. No infringement or offense is intended._

_Summary: How far will one go for love? Haldir/OFC/Legolas_

_Author's Aside: Movieverse for the most part, with a heaping helping of bookverse thrown in for good measure. Haldir dominates the first half of this story, while Legolas features more prominently in the second half._

_AU Note: This story was previously published in censored form at FFN. It is posted in its entirety here._

**_"Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame." ~Henry David Thoreau_ **

*~*~*~*~*

**Chapter 1: Arrivals and Lamentations**

_January 16th, 3019_

The huntress stepped lightly through the forest, senses attuned to her prey. There was no good shooting angle from the ground, but as she cast her eyes into the canopy above her, she realized that she could get the perfect shot from a wide branch hanging over head. Noiselessly, she slung her bow over her shoulder and quietly shimmed up the trunk of an ancient mallorn. She climbed nimbly through the branches until she reached her perfect perch. When she checked to make sure that her victim was still in the clearing, she noted with satisfaction that it had not moved.

Her target stood there glowing softly in the moonlight, large and white except for the circle of color at its center. It was completely unaware of its impending doom, as she looked down upon it through a softly rustling screen of golden leaves. The quarry seemed to taunt her to release an arrow and try to hit her mark. She had been on the hunt for hours and had suffered miserable luck, missing every single shot she had attempted.

_'But this time will be different,'_ she told herself sternly. _'I can do this if I must and when he returns home he will see that I have improved and stop being such a nag.'_ She took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she thought through each of the steps her mentor taught her: Sight the target, notch the arrow, draw the string, inhale a steadying breath, align the tip of the arrow just above the center of the target, exhale, relea…

"Ai!" So focused was she on her target that she was caught unaware when she was grabbed abruptly around the waist. She lost her footing and would have fallen into thin air had the arm around her waist not tightened to a mithril-strength as she was snatched backward against a wall of muscle.

Her bow and arrow clattered uselessly down through the branches to the forest floor. As she started to struggle and drew in a breath to scream, a deep voice chuckled as the arm around her waist loosened and she was turned around to face her tormentor. Her face flushed with anger as he smiled happily down at her. She hit his chest as hard as she could with both hands, causing her to slip again upon the bark. His arms caught her once more as he effortlessly maneuvered them to a wider part of the branch where their footing was more secure.

"Haldir, you scared me!" she reprimanded as his shoulders continued to shake with mirth.

"Little one, if all targets held their place as quietly and steadily as that practice board does, you would be a wonderful shot. Unfortunately, the orcs do not tend to stand quite so still. And if one does," he added smugly as he tugged on the thin braid that kept her hair off her forehead, "there is probably another one sneaking up behind you."

"Do not be obnoxious," she scolded the older elf. "I am doing the best I can to learn what you have tried to teach me."

"And tried, and tried," he said, tapping the end of her nose with his forefinger. She glared at him, her mouth fixed in a firm line of disapproval. He grinned at her in a way that was most unfitting for an elf of his stature and age, she thought. And yet it was worth it to let him mock her a little, just to see the way his smile lit his features and his eyes glowed silver as he enjoyed a moment of levity. His reputation was that of the stone-faced leader of the Forest Guard, but with her he allowed himself to laugh. It was but one aspect of their long friendship that she treasured.

She sighed as she sat down upon the branch and dangled her boot-clad feet over the edge. "Since I have proven to be such an inept pupil, can we not agree to put an end to this ridiculous exercise? I will never be an archer. I do not want to be an archer. I have no talent for it. You and I both have better things to do with our time, and I would think that with all the talk about the growing Shadow, my grandfather has more important tasks for his Chief Marchwarden than to try to make a soldier out of me."

"Isilmei," Haldir began patiently for what seemed the thousandth time as he sat down beside her, "your guardian has no desire to see you on the front lines of any battle. Neither do I. But he and I are in agreement that should the need ever arise; you must be able to defend yourself." He brushed back the curtain of hair she had allowed to fall between them and laid it gently over her shoulder so that he could see her face. His tone was softer when he continued. "Amdirben informs me that you are improving, yet you seldom practice with your fellow trainees. Might I ask why?"

She felt like a petulant elfling as she looked down at the ground below, too embarrassed to meet his penetrating gaze. She thought of him, and the respect and admiration she had always held for him. And she thought of her grandparents. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had nearly lost their only daughter, Lady Celebrian, in the same attack that killed Isilmei's parents. Her father had been Lord Celeborn's grandnephew. In spite of his grief, he and his Lady had chosen to take in the orphaned elfling and raise her as their own. They had ever been as loving and kindly grandparents to her, keeping the memory of her father and mother alive as they nurtured and cared for her. She loved them so dearly, and wanted so much to make them proud. Her lack of prowess in any area was something she felt almost as a physical pain, but it was hard for her to put her feelings into words.

"They are all much more gifted than I," she finally admitted. "I feel…ashamed. I bring dishonor to my grandparents, and to you, and to anyone else who has tried to teach me."

"No, sweetling. Nothing could be farther from the truth. If my duties allowed, I would continue to train you privately so that you were not distracted by other students; but you know that there is too much trouble at the border for me to be home as much as I would like." He paused, and then sighed deeply. She looked over and saw that his gaze was focused in the distance as though his mind were still at the northern edge of their realm. "When I think of that trouble, and all of the dear ones here at home, it becomes imperative to me that all our people learn some sort of self-defense. The times in which we live are too dangerous to afford willful ignorance of the military arts."

The worry in his voice caused her to turn toward him, and it was then that she noticed the faint darkening of the skin underneath his deep gray eyes, the ever-so-subtle slump of his shoulders that most would fail to notice. But he had been a steady presence in her life for as long as she could remember, so she noticed. Her sharp eyes saw the signs of fatigue her dear friend and mentor could not obscure with his strength and carefully controlled expression. She reached out to place one hand on his forearm. "Haldir, are you all right? Are you well? I thought you were not due back for two days yet. Has something happened?"

His expression brightened as he took her hand in both of his. He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Come with me," he said with a wink. "We have visitors that will interest you."

Together they climbed down to the forest floor and he led her through the trees until they came to Caras Galadhon. She was surprised when he led her up a side staircase instead of the one toward the home she shared with her grandparents. Any visitors to Lorien would be presented immediately to the Lord and Lady, so she assumed he was taking her there. Instead, he took a less traveled path that wound around the eastern side of the city.

 Haldir glanced back over his shoulder and favored her with a fleeting smile when he caught the question in her eyes. "Our guests have already spoken to your grandparents. They were assigned the east glade to rest and refresh themselves before dining with the court later this evening. I thought you would want a peek at several members of their company."

He stopped midway across a swinging bridge connecting a series of telain in two neighboring trees. The canopy was thick, but there were several breaks allowing a view of the east glade. It was a large open space ringed by mellyrn. The prominent roots of the primeval trees created small pockets of seclusion in the meadow, and it was into several of those spaces that they now peeked.

In the clearing moved two tiny figures that were busily their traveling packs underneath golden awnings erected among the protruding mellyrn roots. Their clothing was homespun, and looked as though their road to Lorien had been rough. Both of the little people had a head full of curly hair – one nearly black, the other a light red-brown; but it was their large, hairy feet that marked them as the Halflings she had heard about in stories. Until that moment, she had thought them more legend than actual beings.

She gasped, one hand flying to her mouth as the other grabbed Haldir's elbow. He grinned as he covered her fingers with his warm hand. "Periannath!" She exclaimed. "I did not think I would ever see such creatures."

"I know how fascinated you have always been by Halfling lore, so I knew you would want to see them. There are four of them in total. The party entered the edge of the Wood at dusk yesterday and was being followed by orcs. They spent the night on the border with my brothers and me until we could bring them to the city."

"Ai, Haldir. They are wonderful! They look like grown-up children." She shifted on her feet to get a better look at other figures still half-obscured by the screen of leaves. "How many others are with them?"

Haldir's expression darkened as he tightened his grip on her hand. She felt her excitement at seeing the little people fade as she saw the amusement vanish from his face and the sadness that quickly replaced it. "They arrived with four others – the Prince of Mirkwood, Aragorn son of Arathorn, a man of Gondor, and a dwarf."

Given the longstanding acrimony between their people and the dwarves, she was taken by surprise that he had led one into the very heart of Lorien.

"A dwarf? Here? I thought…"

"Isilmei, they bring ill news. There will be a full council meeting later tonight, but we have already informed the Lord and Lady that the travelers set out from Imladris with Mithrandir. He fell into shadow as the company made their way through Moria."

She felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs. The wizard had sought counsel with the Lord and Lady several times during Isilmei's life. When he came to Lorien, he often stayed a month or more, and was as popular with the elflings as he was with the adults. No matter the nature of his business in the council chamber, he always made time to tell stories and set fireworks for the young. Isilmei counted a small wooden carving of a horse given to her by Mithrandir among her most treasured possessions.

As she stared in shock into the clear gray eyes of her oldest and dearest friend, she suddenly understood why he looked so tired and worried. Mithrandir's loss was a heavy blow to all those who valued wisdom and peace. She stepped forward and wrapped both her arms around Haldir's waist and hugged him tightly as she fought to hold back her tears.

He returned her embrace and pressed a kiss onto her hair before resting his cheek on the top of her head. They stood that way for a long moment, each drawing solace from the other, until her sense of duty nudged her out of Haldir's arms. "Grandmother will need help with plans for a memorial," she sniffed.

"Yes. And I must gather up supplies for a return to the border with more guards. Lord Celeborn has ordered we double our sentries."

Isilmei's forehead wrinkled with disappointment. "Will you be coming home again soon?"

"I should return within the week," he assured her. "Orophin and I will be assisting the visitors as they prepare to continue their quest." A mischievous light reached his eyes as he raised one dark eyebrow. "And based on what I saw today, you and I desperately need to spend some time on your archery training. The sooner the better."

She tilted her head to one side as she regarded him. "I suppose having you home will be worth the torture of training." Without waiting for his response, she rose on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek before turning and running swiftly for the talan she shared with the Lord and Lady.

*~*~*~*~*

Far into the night the Elves of Lorien sang the praises and adventures of Mithrandir. For a time all the members of the Company listened mournfully as a chorus of haunting voices lamented the Grey Pilgrim's passing from Middle-earth; yet one by one, hobbits, man, and dwarf fell prey to sleep's insistent demands.

Aragorn and Legolas kept each other company far into the night, each sitting in silence, lost in his own musings and sorrow. Finally, even restless Estel had to close his watchful eyes, cloaking himself in slumber's warming shroud and the protection of Lady Galadriel and her people. Only Legolas found rest unattainable.

Sighing, he crept from the glade in which his companions slumbered; mindful at first not to wake them until he realized that if Gimli's snoring did not disturb them, nothing else would do so. He was unsure where his restless feet would lead him, but the winding, leaf-shrouded path eventually opened into a larger clearing. He stepped into the open space, breathing a sigh of relief at the richness of the green grass under his feet and the opening through the mellyrn through which he could see the many bright stars overhead. He wondered as he stood there admiring their stark beauty if Mithrandir now counted among their number. When he was able to tear his eyes away from the night sky, he looked around the garden and was surprised to realize that he must be standing before the famed Mirror of Galadriel. Legolas touched hand to heart and bowed his head in a small gesture of reverence toward the Mirror's pedestal before advancing any farther into the glade.

On the far side of the dell, a small stream whispered its way toward the Celebrant just underneath the shelter of the trees. Legolas was born with a fascination for water, as were many of his kind. Sometimes during carefree moments, he daydreamed of following one of the great rivers along its path until it joined with the ocean on its journey toward the Undying Lands. He sank onto a bench next to the stream and watched the water hurry along as he wished he could recapture some of that lighthearted spirit now.

So lost in thought was he that Legolas was unaware of another presence until he glanced up and saw a young elleth standing in the shadow between two trees, half-hidden by the gold cloak of the mellyrn. She appeared as though a spirit, silent and still at the edge of the glade. The light of the moon slipping through the forest's canopy caught in her fair hair and cast a halo of radiance around her. He started, disbelieving for a moment that his warrior's instincts had deserted him so completely, even in this place of serenity and peace. As quickly as she appeared between the trees, she vanished.

"Hello?" he called, not desirous of company but not wishing to be rude this first night in the Lady's realm. "Are you there? Please show yourself."

He held his breath, wondering if his adventure in Moria had left him somehow mad, when she stepped into the open. As she moved from the shadows in which she had stood enough light found her face for him to recognize her.

Earlier that evening, as the company was ushered into the banquet hall for the first good meal they had enjoyed since leaving Imladris, they had been hastily introduced to key members of the court. Standing before him in a pale blue gown with her bare toes peeking from underneath the hem was the Lady Isilmei – adopted granddaughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Aragorn had explained to him during the meal, in response to the unspoken question in his eyes, that she had been taken in by the Lord and Lady when her parents were killed by orcs. The young lady's father was kinsman to Lord Celeborn. That much was obvious, he realized as he gazed at her now. The thick, straight sliver-gold hair trailing down to her waist and the regal set of her shoulders were entirely reminiscent of her guardians.

What was not reminiscent was the shyness with which she regarded him. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and gestured for her to join him on the bench.

"Am I disturbing your meditations?" she asked quietly.

"No," he answered with a shake of his head. "I find sleep elusive this night."

She nodded understanding as she slowly crossed the glade to perch next to him. He immediately identified with the air of sadness that seemed to hover over her, for his own heart was heavy indeed with sorrow.

When she did not speak he allowed his gaze to return to the stream. After a long moment, her quiet voice drifted to his ears. "Had you known Mithrandir for many years?"

"In truth, yes, many years," he said. He leaned down to retrieve a golden leaf that fell at his feet. Once again he felt the landslide of his worries and sorrow settle about his shoulders as his thoughts returned to the darkness of Moria and the balrog's violent fire. He sighed heavily in hopes of releasing some of his frustration and sadness.

"Me too." When he glanced up at her he felt a surge of empathy as she obviously shared some of his feelings. "He had been visiting us since before I was born," she continued. "No matter what his business, he always made time for the elflings, and always had a song or an illusion or a game for us. I remember an afternoon – ai, I could not have been more than a dozen years old at the time. There were several other elflings with me, and Mithrandir whistled a merry little tune and the next thing we knew we were surrounded by butterflies. They perched on our fingers and in our hair – one of them even landed on my nose – until he whistled again and they fluttered off along their way. I have tried again and again but have never been able to replicate the effect."

He favored her with a small smile. "Mithrandir's heart was that of an elfling in some ways, was it not?"

She studied him for a moment before she responded, yet he found he did not mind her steady, gentle gaze upon his face. "One can be both very wise and very young at heart, yes?"

"I suppose so," he said with a quiet chuckle, "though I have yet to meet more than one being who managed it."

The whisper of a smile in her eyes vanished. "He was special," she sighed, turning her eyes toward the water.

"I do not know what will become of us now that he is fallen," he admitted hoarsely.

"How do you mean?"

"He guided us in more ways than we knew," Legolas confessed, finding it surprisingly easy to tell this stranger his innermost cares. "Despite my years in Middle-earth, and the experience Aragorn and I have gained in battle, none of us has ever faced a challenge like the one we must now confront. We are tasked with delivering the One Ring into the home of its maker while fending off the armies of Orthanc and Mordor, and preventing the Deceiver from obtaining that which he desires most."

As he continued, Legolas heard his own voice rising in intensity as he recounted the seeming folly of their mission. "There were nine of us when we started, and while we have yet to even approach Mordor's borders, we have already lost our most powerful companion. Mithrandir not only led our Company, he inspired us to bravery beyond that which we would have thought ourselves capable. Aragorn must now lead a company half-composed of Shirefolk who had never tasted the heat of battle until recently."

"Do you doubt the courage of the Periannath?" she asked without judgment.

"No," Legolas was quick to assert. "They have all shown their valor in the depths of Moria. But that does not account for the increasingly heavy burden that Frodo carries, or the Halflings' lack of experience."

"And you think that one or more of them might falter," she inferred as the dread of the situation seemed to weigh upon her.

Legolas shook his head, sighing heavily as he looked down at the golden leaves that continued to waft their way toward the ground. One broad leaf dropped from its supporting branch as though it merely gave up hope and floated through the air until it met the water's surface. The rushing stream snatched the leaf from the air, hurrying it along toward the roaring Celebrant in the distance. He felt a little as if his own heart were being carried away with the golden leaf, and felt his frustration rise like a living thing.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps it is not the Halflings that we need worry about, but one or more of the rest of us. This is a trial unlike any of us has faced aforetime. Mithrandir's wisdom provided the light that kept us from darkness." With that he raised his hooded eyes to briefly meet the worried but sympathetic blue gaze of his companion. "Without that light I fear I will stumble, and will know not how to rise again."

Though his own gaze had returned to the water, he felt her eyes linger on his face. When he glanced toward her once more, he saw tears of sympathy brimming in her eyes. A single drop fell from her long lashes and slid slowly down the graceful curve of her cheek. He felt a wave of guilt wash through him for putting such heavy concerns on her slim shoulders. It had made him feel better to unburden himself, but obviously his candor had upset her when she was already mourning the loss of their mutual friend.

"I apologize," he said as he lifted a hand to gently wipe the moisture off her cheek. "I had no right to burden you with…"

A stern voice from the far side of the clearing interrupted them. "My Lady Isilmei."

Legolas and his companion both turned to see the Chief Marchwarden striding briskly toward them. There was something in the older ellon's eyes that caused Legolas to lower his hand from Isilmei's face.

"What is wrong?" He demanded as he reached them and extended a hand to her.

It rankled Legolas that as soon as she placed her slim fingers within his grasp, the Marchwarden swiftly pulled her to her feet and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders in a most possessive gesture. Legolas was about to object, but her quiet voice stayed him.

"We were speaking of Mithrandir," she said with a sniffle.

"Come," the Galadhel said, though his tone was somewhat gentler as he looked down at her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "It is late and you need rest. I have come to see you home."

She nodded in agreement but was barely able to say goodbye before the harsh Marchwarden had hurried her out of the glade, his arm still firmly about her shoulders.

Legolas watched after them for a moment, trying to discern the reason for the other ellon's overbearing behavior. Was he upset that he had found the elleth in tears? _'Of course, she could be quite pretty if she smiled,'_ he thought. If the reason for his journey to Lorien had been less heavy, it would have been an interesting puzzle to solve, but as it was, he had too much weight on his heart to give much thought to grumpy Marchwardens and their sad maidens. With a sigh he put the encounter behind him and continued to watch the water scurry along its path, wishing it could carry him far away from his troubles.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Lessons and Observations**

_Several weeks later…_ 1 

Haldir sighed in impatient frustration as he sat down upon a large moss-covered rock. He had brought three of the Halflings into the forest surrounding the city, the result of a request they had made to Lord Celeborn, to teach them of Lorien flora and fauna. The one called Sam, who seemed to be the self-appointed cook of the group, had said it was important for him to know which plants in this part of Middle-earth were safe to eat and which were not. Merry and Pippin had cheerfully tagged along rather than continuing with the sword training that Boromir of Gondor was trying to instill in them. Only the Ringbearer himself was studious enough to stick with his lesson when the opportunity for adventure had presented itself.

When Lord Celeborn assigned him the task of educating the Halflings in forest lore, Haldir had thought it a good idea to recruit Isilmei to join him. He had taught her about their forest when she was an elfling, and she had proven an eager and attentive student. He knew that she would enjoy spending time with the little people who so fascinated her, and would be able to add her own observations to his lesson. His own thoughts were now so focused on military concerns that he did not often stop to admire the beauty of their woods during these troubled times. Isilmei, with the fresh perspective of youth and her training as a healer, viewed the forest's plants and trees in a way different from his own.

What he had planned was not entirely how the day progressed, however. Periannath, it seemed, had very short attention spans. At least in the cases of Merry and Pippin, a few brief moments of instruction were inevitably followed by several unrelated questions that veered into unpredictable territories. He had struggled mightily during their walk to maintain his patience and composure, efforts which were not aided by Isilmei's irreverent giggles whenever one of the Halflings stumped him with the variety and irrelevance of their questions.

The more focused he became on keeping his new pupils on task; the funnier she found the situation. When Pippin asked that he teach them "an elven dance" so that they would "be prepared to dance with the elven maids" at the feast being given in the Fellowship's honor several days hence, Haldir had been only too willing to turn the task over to his traitorous companion. Isilmei had been delighted to oblige, and now here he was, wasting a perfectly good afternoon watching her attempt to teach Merry, Pippin, and Sam the finer points of Elven choreography.

"No, Master Merry, not like that," she said as she turned him by the shoulders to face the opposite direction. "In three steps, not four."

Merry looked down at his feet and then back up at her. "I thought were supposed to take four steps that time."

"No, Merry," Pippin said. "She said we always take three steps in elven dances."

"Not all dances, Pip," Sam corrected. "Just this one."

"That is correct, Master Samwise," she agreed. "Just this one. In this dance, the music is gentle and it sways like a warm summer's breeze through the trees. All you have to do is count in groups of three, one-two-three, one-two-three, and so on and you will have the rhythm of the dance. Now, shall we try it again? This time without staring at our feet?"

Haldir continued to watch as she lined them up in pairs, Merry and Sam in the places of the male partners, herself and Pippin in the places of the females, and started the steps over again. Merry grumbled under his breath that Elven dances were harder than Shire dances, but Haldir's attention remained focused on Isilmei. He was impressed by the way his student had become a fine teacher in her own right. She was diligent, kind, and positive, and in truth, much more tolerant with the Halflings than he himself had been. Where teaching them had become something of a chore for him, she took obvious pleasure in their enthusiasm and in their interest in Elven culture.

As he listened to Isilmei's patient instructions, Haldir felt his own annoyance begin to ebb while his eyes followed her lithe form. Her face was lit with a warm smile as she led her pupils through the steps and the afternoon sun shone on her silver-gold hair. Simply put, she gladdened his heart. From the time she had been a tiny elfling, just learning to walk across her guardian's counsel chamber to show him her latest treasure; he had always found her smile enchanting. It reached the whole of her face, and her joy was infectious. One simply could not help smiling when she did.

So much about her had changed in recent years, he realized, and yet she still maintained the brightness of spirit and the enthusiastic joy that were a breath of fresh air to his soul. As one of the few senior members of the Forest Guard who was unencumbered with a family of his own and a long-time servant of the Lord and Lady, he had been among the first to volunteer to help them care for their ward. He had spent many happy hours with her in the forest, teaching her about their natural world. It had been duty which had prompted his initial involvement, but it was the enormous pleasure she took in even the smallest things, her excitement about each new type of plant or animal that he showed her, that fed the fondness he developed for the young elleth and kept him looking for new things to teach her.

Haldir had not known Isilmei's mother – an elleth of Imladris – well, but her father had been a ranking member of the Forest Guard and was well known to him. Haldir thought Elurin's daughter had inherited something of her father's sense of humor as he watched her beam at her pupils and laugh at their jokes. She had not, however, inherited his proficiency with weapons. As eager as she had been to absorb Haldir's forestry lessons, she had been far less willing to learn the bow and the sword, recoiling from them as though her delicate nature was offended by their existence. She was correct in her assessment that she would never be a master archer, but he was determined that she gain proficiency in the fundamentals at least.

In her attitude toward weapons he could still see her youth and inexperience, yet the figure gliding through dance steps in front of him was not that of an immature elfling. Her body was long and slender, curving enticingly in all the right places. The dark green leggings and pale blue tunic she wore did little to obscure the lean muscles of her form. The graceful effect of her movements reminded him of a young willow tree. She was an exciting mixture of elleth and elfling, poised just on the edge of her full glory. She was lovely now, he thought, but as she grew further into herself and her natural talents, she would be breathtaking.

"Haldir?" She asked, looking at with him a furrowed brow. "Are you well?"

It was only then that he realized he had been so consumed by his musings that he had missed something. "Just catching a quick nap," he lied smoothly, standing and brushing a spot of moss off the hem of his tunic. "Are we ready to proceed?"

He missed neither the subtle roll of her blue eyes nor the snicker that Pippin did not try to hide. Fortunately for Haldir, her inner goodness caused her to move on rather than to dwell on his lack of focus. "Would you help me demonstrate this next step?"

He sighed; thinking first to argue with her about the time they were wasting but quickly deciding that completing the dance lesson was probably the best way to move the party along. "Very well," he agreed as he took her outstretched hand. He relished the feel of her smooth, soft skin against his callused fingers.

They lined up in two rows, Haldir across from Isilmei and Merry across from Pippin. Sam stepped back to watch. "Watch how Haldir embraces me, Sam." Haldir found that his attention gap was now effectively closed. "It will make more sense when you dance with a partner of your own height. Perhaps you can teach others something of the elves when you return home," she continued as they began the sequence of steps.

It had been years since he had danced with his young friend as the watch schedule was not always conducive to his attendance at court functions. Whoever had taken over this particular piece of her training had done a masterful job. Due to his dawning awareness of her maturity, the sensation of dancing with her was new, and entirely welcome. With a smile he squeezed her fingers briefly as their hands brushed when he stepped past her. He took three steps toward her, and then three back. The next series of steps brought them side by side before he took her outstretched hand and turned her neatly into his arms. He felt a little chill where their bodies contacted one another as he led her through three turns to complete the sequence of steps.

Merry and Pippin had stopped dancing to watch the two elves. "Do it again, Lady Isilmei," urged Sam. "I think I've almost got it."

"Don't they look fine together, Pip?" asked Merry.

"Like something out of a story about…well, the Elves," Pippin agreed.

Haldir stopped listening to the Halflings as he and Isilmei repeated the pattern of steps. As he looked into her lovely face, he reflected upon his earlier musings. His feelings for her were definitely not those a teacher would have for his favorite student. Somewhere along the way, his fondness for his Lord's ward had grown into something more dear. His arm tightened about her waist and his eyes lingered on her lips until he heard her soft gasp. Her gaze was upon his, something both warm and surprised burning in her sky blue eyes. Roses bloomed on her cheeks in a most becoming shade of pink.

Worried that he had given away too much, and feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the awareness blossoming in his chest, he released his hold and stepped back. He bowed slightly over her hand. "My Lady," he said formally, before turning to the Halflings. "Now gentlemen," he said to bring a halt to their observations regarding what an attractive couple he and Isilmei made. "Let us continue with our lesson. Follow me."

With that, he strode off into the forest, trusting that the three Hobbits and the still-blushing Isilmei would trail behind him.

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_The next day…_

The path Isilmei took to the archery grounds wound past a small ring the Guard used for sword training. Had it not been for the two figures sparring in the center of the circle, she would have walked right by without stopping. Yet when she caught a glimpse of a familiar head of white-gold hair and the broad shoulders she was sure she would recognize anywhere, she paused. Shifting the bundle she carried underneath her arm, she stepped up to rope marking the contest ring.

Haldir and his brother Rúmil sparred within the ring as though to the death. Several of the senior Guard members she recognized, including Magolchon, Túnir, and Dagron, stood in various stances of repose as they watched the brothers practice, though it hardly looked like practice. The match must have been going on for quite some time for they were both disheveled and perspiring.

Something about the intensity of the combatants' movements told her that this was more than a practice match, though she had no clue as to the cause of their ferocity. Haldir was thickly built, a head shorter than his brother but solid through the chest and shoulders. His long arms more than made up for any disadvantage his shorter stature may have given him. By contrast, Rúmil was as tall as a young mallorn, lithe and long with attenuated limbs that swung his sword with murderous accuracy.

The two ellyn kept their eyes locked on each other as they thrust and blocked their way around the ring. First Haldir seemed to have the advantage, but then a ferocious counter attack won the lead for Rúmil. As their aggression increased, the pace of their movements quickened until they were both moving so speedily it was hard for her eyes to make out individual movements. It looked to her as she stood there watching them that the two engaged in a deadly, beautiful dance as metal struck metal time and again. The cold sound of blade against blade provided an oddly juxtaposed accompaniment to the obvious heat of their belligerence.

She had never seen him this way. The gentle, laughing Haldir – her good, true friend – was nowhere to be found in the lethal grace of the warrior fighting before her. The cold focus of the combatants frightened her a little, and she longed to see a warm smile return to Haldir's face. And yet she knew that her Haldir – the one who had such a sharp sense of humor and yet at the same time such thoughtfulness and gentle warmth – would not fit in this setting. There would be no place for the tender side of him in battle. For reasons she could not explain, the thought of him in battle caused a bubble of worry in her stomach, though his prowess was clearly on display as he battled his brother within the ring.

With a flurry of refined motion, Haldir had his brother on the ground with the blade of his sword pressed against Rúmil's throat. Isilmei raised a hand to her own neck as though her fingers could protect her from the cold press of unbending metal against tender flesh.

Haldir broke into a wide, feral grin as he lowered his sword and extended a hand to help his brother to his feet. Rúmil accepted the assistance, though the look on his face was still hard as the other guardmembers clapped and congratulated the brothers on a well fought match. She clapped politely as she stood there feeling entirely out of place amid the circle of masculine strength and ferocity.

Haldir glanced up and caught her eye. His expression softened and his eyes glowed liquid silver as he crossed the ring to stand in front of her. "Lady Isilmei, you came. And on time, no less," he said with a smirk.

"I was told I had no choice in the matter," she replied with a glare.

"Quite correct," he nodded in a way that suggested he was too pleased with himself for her liking. "Give me just a moment and then we will be on our way."

He walked back to his wardens and spoke with them briefly before turning in her direction. As he ducked under the rope that cordoned off the ring, he tugged his tunic back into place and smoothed a hand through his long hair to straighten it. With a playful bow he gestured toward the archery targets and smiled. "This way, my Lady."

She sighed as she joined him and walked toward the archery range. Determined not to submit quietly to another embarrassing display of her dearth of talent, she played her carefully planned gambit. "I have the most brilliant idea," she said breezily.

He looked at her and arched one eyebrow in a way that suggested he knew what she was up to. "And what would that be, little one?" he asked with fond indulgence in his voice.

She was determined to win her case. "It is such a beautiful day. A day for which we should rejoice. Therefore, let us forego practice and have a picnic along the Celebrant. I have prepared a feast." She raised the bundle in her arms as proof.

Her friend had the audacity to laugh at her. "A tempting notion, but no," he said as he shook his head and lifted the satchel from her arms. "We have serious work to do."

He pointed to a target and she stood obediently, if not willingly, in front of it as he walked over to a storage shed and collected the necessary supplies. She nervously glanced down the length of the range and was relieved to find it deserted. At least there would not be many witnesses of her spectacularly bad efforts.

Her eyes followed his movements with growing interest as he placed her satchel on the ground next to the shed and bent down to reach for a quiver. She found that she was beginning to see him in a new light and indulge in romantic notions she had not entertained since she was much younger. In recent weeks, it seemed, she had become aware of Haldir's very obvious, and very powerful, masculinity. In addition to seeing him as her dear friend, she was not able to help herself as she noticed the quick, sure grace of his body, the tightness and tone of his muscles. Within her mind flashed an image of his face when he had danced with her just a few days earlier. Before he was able to cover it, she had caught him staring at her lips as though he wanted to kiss her. The memory made her blush as much as the moment itself had, particularly when she realized that she would not mind at all if he decided to follow through on his urge.

She glanced quickly at the ground as he turned and approached her. Reluctantly she accepted the weapons he held out, but she was unable to suppress an annoyed sigh. He grinned in response and shook his head as though she should refrain from complaining.

"I really do not see why I need to learn this skill," she grumped. "Why should I when I have you to protect me?"

When he frowned in response the look in his eyes was a study in tired patience at this recurring conversation between them. "Because," he explained, "if ever there comes a time when I cannot be here to protect you, I need to know that you are safe."

She scowled at his usual answer, which made him laugh.

He leaned down to select an arrow from the quiver she had dropped at her feet. "Please, sweetling?" he entreated with his most winning smile. "For me?"

She could deny him almost nothing, and they both knew it, but she was unwilling to relent just yet. "I am afraid to practice with you after what I witnessed in the sword ring." She gingerly accepted the arrow he held out to her.

Haldir's expression grew smug as he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her. "You are well capable of handling a blade should you choose to do so. When I attempted to teach you the art of swordplay, your natural facility and your love of dance made you a very good pupil, as I recall. Until I told you to think of the practice stick as a blade, that is. Then you acted as though the thing in your hand tried to attack you."

She regarded the bow and arrow in her hands dubiously as he continued.

"I turned your studies to the bow in effort to give you a means of defense which would not involve the hand-to-hand combat that so offended your delicate nature. And yet you continue to spurn my efforts."

An impish thought seized her as she glanced at him through lowered lashes. "Surely there are other efforts in which you could engage that I would not spurn."

He laughed as his eyebrows floated toward his hairline in surprise. "I should sincerely like to have that conversation with you at some point, but right now, our job is to practice your technique with the bow."

"Must we?" she implored, knowing that once again, she had lost the contest of wills between them.

"We must," he nodded. "Now, show me a basic stance as you aim for the target yonder."

"I would rather pull out my own hair, truly," she grumbled.

He studied her face for a moment as though trying to determine how far she would take her foul humor. "I will make a deal with you," he finally said as a gleam appeared in his clear gray eyes, "one I would not make with any of my other students." He paused for dramatic effect. "If you hit the target three times, we will have your picnic this very afternoon."

Her smile was broad as she sensed victory. "You will put aside your duties to entertain me?"

"My Lady, it will be my distinct pleasure," he said with a decidedly wicked grin. "Now, show me how you properly string that arrow."

Feeling much happier about the afternoon's prospects, she placed the arrow's notch against the string and faced the target. She pulled the string back and waited for his command to fire.

"Turn your hips so that they are more perpendicular to the target," he said as he stepped forward and placed one hand in front of her stomach and the other at the small of her back. She noted with interest when she glanced down that his broad hands could nearly encircle her waist. He slid his hands toward her hips and she allowed him to turn her to the position he wanted. She decided that she did not mind this lesson nearly as much as she had thought she would. "Good," he said as he stepped back and appraised her stance. "Release."

So mesmerized by the lingering feeling of his hands on her hips, she was not focused on the target in front of her. She released the string and the shot veered wildly off to the right.

"It works better when you do not close your eyes," he laughed.

She blushed, having no intention of telling him why she had failed to concentrate on her shot.

"Also, the alignment of your elbows is incorrect." He stepped toward her and held up another arrow. "Again."

She notched the second arrow as he came to stand behind her and encircled her with his arms.

"Your left arm should be tensed," he said as he ran his hand down the length of her arm making corrections, "but there should be some flexibility at the elbow. Not softness or weakness, but it should not be locked stiff. Like so. Yes. Good." His touches were making her lightheaded and she could feel the flush rising to her cheeks. "Now," he continued in a tone that was matter-of-fact and suggested he was unaware of the effect he was having on her, "at full draw your right forearm should be parallel with the ground, like this." His fingers rested underneath her hand, supporting her as she drew back the string. When he was satisfied with the position of her arms, he bent his head slightly forward until it was just above her own. She felt engulfed by his body, the power of his presence. "Release," he whispered. His breath was warm velvet against the tip of her ear. Her shot went wild.

"Isilmei," he said with a chuckle as he stepped away from her and calmly went about procuring another arrow. "You must concentrate, my dear."

She glowered at him, hot blood coloring her cheeks and ears. "How do you expect me to concentrate with you breathing in my ear that way? You are supremely distracting."

His smile was unapologetic as he raised one eyebrow suggestively. "Am I now?"

She narrowed her eyes at him in irritation. "I believe you know that you are."

He held up the arrow. "In battle there are many distractions. Again." She gave him a dimpled glare. "Remember," he cajoled, "three hits and we picnic."

She snatched the arrow from his hand and turned her sights on the target with renewed determination. Quickly loading the arrow and drawing before she had time to second guess herself, she released and watched as the arrow flew away from her hands. With a satisfying thud it hit the target.

"Good," he said as his eyes glowed with pride. He bent to pull another arrow. "Again." He stepped back to give her more room to maneuver, but she found that she missed the nearness of him.

Smiling to herself as an idea occurred to her; she drew the string and fired, knowing full well that the shot would miss. Her ploy worked.

Haldir lifted an arrow from the quiver and enclosed her within his arms, smoothly adjusting the position of her elbows and wrists. "You dropped your elbow. That is why you missed." His hands guided her as she pulled the string back once more. The arrow struck the target just a few inches from the first hit. "Good!"

She glanced up at him and gave into the temptation to flirt just a bit. "One more and I get my picnic."

"Indeed." He stepped away just long enough to grab an arrow before surrounding her again. She was far more aware of the length of his body behind her, the hardness of his thigh against her hip than she was of the arrow he handed her before guiding her arms into the proper position. His right hand ran up her arm to the shoulder before coming back to support her fingers. "Strengthen your shoulder so you can support the tension your fingers place on the string."

She took a deep breath and released the string. The arrow struck the target between the other two, and she broke into a huge smile as she stood within his arms. She turned to look up at him, feeling quite satisfied with herself. None of her shots landed near the center ring, but the three shafts protruding from the practice board fulfilled his requirement.

His eyes were glowing as he quickly bussed her cheek. "Picnic," he whispered. The word brushed against her skin and caused her to shiver as he released her and stepped away.

 "You shoot well, Lady Isilmei." She whirled around, caught completely unaware of another presence in their vicinity. Prince Legolas smiled warmly at her as he stood with his own bow slung over his shoulder and a quiver of arrows fletched with the amber-hued feathers preferred by Mirkwood archers hanging from his arm. Behind him, she caught a glimpse of Haldir's brother Rúmil standing at the edge of the practice field. The look on his face was dark with disapproval. When he realized she saw him, he turned around and walked quickly away.

She found her voice only when she realized that the prince waited for some sort of response. "Thank you for your kindness in not pointing out my obvious flaws, Your Royal Highness," she hurried to say as she dropped into a quick curtsy. "I have a wonderful teacher, but alas, his student leaves much to be desired."

"Never, Lady Isilmei," Haldir said quickly as he placed a hand at the small of her back. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, but felt the need to be more polite to their guest. "I have heard that your skill with the bow is unapproachable," she said. "Surely you have no need of practice?"

"In Mirkwood only the very youngest elflings had the luxury of practicing on any but living targets," he explained. "Our woods are so corrupted by the influence of Dol Guldur it is said we are born with quiver and bowstring in hand."

She tried to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in such a threatening place, but could not fathom it. "Then it is no wonder your reputation is so good. Would it be too much to ask for a brief demonstration?" The prince looked pleased at her request, but she caught Haldir scowling at her before he composed his features into a polite mask of indifference.

"As you wish, my Lady," the prince replied with a slight bow. He removed his bow from his shoulder and shifted the quiver onto his back as he walked toward the targets and chose the one set farthest back from the firing line. In the blink of an eye he had fired three shots, all of which hit the target in rapid succession. His fourth and fifth shots landed so that there was a perfect vertical line of arrows bisecting the target.

Isilmei was stunned. "Perhaps your reputation is not flattering enough."

He smiled brightly. "Thank you."

"My Lady," Haldir said from beside her, "we should allow the prince to practice in peace."

"Of course," she said. She nodded her goodbye to Mirkwood's prince and allowed Haldir to lead her off the field. He stooped to collect her satchel of picnic supplies as they passed the storage shed before quickly leaving the archery fields behind.

TBC...

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1 The Fellowship of the Ring film is non-specific, but according to the book, the Fellowship entered Lothlorien on either the 15th or the 16th of January in the year 3019. They leave on February 16th of the same year (The Lord of the Rings, "Appendix B: The Tale of Years," pg. 1208). For the purposes of this story, I have chosen to go with bookverse which gives the Fellowship a month in the Golden Wood. Also, anyone who feels like referencing page numbers should please keep in mind that my copy is electronic. I have no idea how page numbers will jive with the various hardcopy editions in circulation.


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